mindful mondays

It’s 7am. I don’t need to look through the cracks in the blinds to know that the sun is shining. I can hear it, the way the tires of the cars sound against the road, absent of the usual back splash of wet pavement. I rub my cold feet up against his calves and the sheets make a crinkly sound and I listen to him breathe for a while. There’s a chocolate stain in the shape of a fish bone on the white pillow case. Remnants from yesterday’s easter egg hunt. Outside, the birds are chirping. I especially like the song of the one that sounds like 2 small stones chipping against each other. His hair smells like he’s been in the wood shop. His neck smells of thyme. I’m making plans for the day in my head. I keep telling myself I should get up but the practice of mindfulness means that I must ignore the call of the later and focus on the now. Rarely does one get to sleep in on a Monday morning and I want to take full advantage of this gift. 5 minutes, I tell myself. I can listen to the birds outside my window and I can look at the shadows on the wall and I can kiss his neck and I can feel my feet warm up and I can, for 5 minutes, allow this spring feeling in with all my senses.

Also. This.